


Night Goes Down

by Ghanima_Starkiller



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: F/M, Pre-DCnU, Preboot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghanima_Starkiller/pseuds/Ghanima_Starkiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightwing pays a late night visit to the Clock Tower....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Goes Down

Midnight in Gotham City, and the Clock Tower is silent apart from the quiet clacking of the keyboard and other soft sounds of Babs’ humble habitation. When she looks up, blinking away the haze of the glowing monitors as she peers into the shadows, she’s momentarily astonished to see Dick there, still wearing his mask, his costume stripped down to his waist and a bottle of Gatorade in his hand. “You surprised me,” she murmurs, trying to shake it off. It’s funny, the things you’ll think when you’re alone, and how you’ll censor those same thoughts in the presence of another; in the presence of the person whom those thoughts had been about. As if they might read them straight from you mind.

Dick raises an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Don’t I always?’ And then, behind that mask, the eyebrow is lifted higher and Babs really does believe for a minute that he has read her mind. She stretches, interlocking her fingers and cracking her knuckles as she extends her arms, and pushed away from the Oracle hub, smiling at him as she tucks a stray strand of her fiery hair behind her ear. “Cute, hunk wonder,” she chuckles, tipping her head playfully to the side, “very cute.”

“I like to think so, Red,” he fires back, but it isn’t banter; his tone is too soft for that, too thoughtful. Maybe Babs is imagining it, but it sounds a bit husky, too. She moves to turn her chair back towards the hub, but he catches an arm and lifts himself into a spectacular and showy handstand above her, making her giggle in spite of herself. His arms strain, the muscles popping beneath the flesh, lithe and elegant, veins running across his skin, standing out. “What, too busy saving Gotham to give your boyfriend a kiss?”

“Show off,” she grumbles, but she gives him a peck on the mouth, mostly catching his nose, his top lip. He grins and lunges in for another, longer, sloppier, pulling her top lip, tugging it between his own. He drops to the ground with poise, the soft metallic thud muted by his grace and skill. And he’s kissing her again, pushing in now, pressing his advantage, his hands braced on each arm of her wheelchair. It becomes passionate, her arms around his neck, one hand plucking her glasses off of her face, the other dropping to the fly of her jeans, thumbing it open, pulling the zipper down, his fingers slipping between her flesh and her panties.

Lifting her body slightly, he pulls both undies and pants down her slender, pale legs, licking his lips as he does this, eyes watching her, like two sapphire flames. Unconsciously, she mimics the action, her own tongue dry, darting everywhere to keep her mouth from becoming the Sahara as she begins to shiver with anticipation. "Dick...," she manages to croak out through a parched throat.

He kneels before her, pushes her knees apart and raises her legs gently, carefully, treating each one with seductive and almost worshipful reverence as he places her thighs over his shoulders and dives between them. She cried out as his tongue penetrates her, thrusting between her wet lips; her fingers curl in his black hair, her green eyes wide, her mouth hanging open in surprise and bliss at the sensation. And all the time, his eyes are watching her behind the mask he still wears. His lips closed around her clit, suckling hard, hungrily, moaning as he nips and nibbles the taut nub of flesh, as he feels her slick wetness seep against his chin.

Only then does he take his eyes off of her face to wrap his arms around her thighs and bury his face into her pussy, eating noisily, lapping up her cream with his rough tongue, playing with her inner lips, his tongue sinking between them to lick her tender, silken insides. Babs sobs when he pulls away for a moment, rocking back and forth over the edge of the great precipice of her climax, her fingers in his hair trying to pull him back, him resisting. His eyes just smiling up at her.

But he doesn’t let it slip away, only prolongs it. He’s devouring her again, his lips smacking greedily, his throat taking loud swallows as his saliva mixed with her juicy sweetness. He consumes her, ravaging, gorging on her, like a starved man, rubbing his cheeks and nose into the burning, throbbing flesh of her private place. And now her sobs are those of ecstasy, especially when she feels a finger slide into her, pumping her to the motion of his tongue on her clit.

She writhes as she comes, one of the most amazing orgasms she has ever experienced in her life. Her cheeks are flushed, her body convulsing until all the little firecrackers along her nerve endings settle into a smolder. "Mmm," she moans softly as he kisses his way along her thighs, up her stomach, still perched on his shoulders as he leans upward to kiss her mouth, licking his lips with relish. The costume hide almost nothing, even with the top half hanging down over the bottom, and it reveals now what he wants the most. She runs a hand down his flat, taut stomach and cups his powerful erection, rubbing her palm against it until he’s growling into her mouth.

The rest of the costume is discarded quickly and with an almost savage carelessness as his cock reaches for her, desperate for that warm, wet place between her thighs. He keeps one leg on his shoulder, though the calf slides down against his chest, and gently places the other beneath his arm, holding it, the crook of his elbow hooked around it as he dives into her. There are sensations that she is more aware of now than she was before: not just the feel of him thrusting into her, his velvet skin rubbing her clenching sheath, causing sweet friction, but the pressure, too, the wonderful force and weight of having him inside of her, burrowing deep into her belly. She’s in a magnificent position to receive him fully, and he plunges into her again and again with an almost bestial desire.

She comes again for him, and he’s not far behind, reaching up into her shirt now, cupping her breast in his hand, squeezing it, playing with the nipple beneath the simple white cotton. His sticky seed is on her thighs, though she can’t feel it there, and inside of her, which she can feel filling her in white-hot spurts. They smile into each others’ kisses until their breathing steadies and the trembling abates somewhat.

“Night in Gotham,” Dick says, inhaling as if he’s taking a lungful of fresh air into his chest. “Never know what’s gonna go down.”

Babs grins mischievously. “Or who,” she teases.


End file.
